


Friends Forever

by Zeheal



Series: Fantasy Mafia Creepypasta! [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeheal/pseuds/Zeheal
Summary: This is pretty much a little story of how Tim/Masky and Brian/Hoody became Slenders proxies in a little universe I have!





	Friends Forever

_**In Memory of Brian Haight**_

That was all that was left of his friend, a stone resting over his head while he was six feet under it. Tim stood there in his jacket, zipped up to the chin looking at the gravestone. Despite how cold it was outside, he couldn’t feel anything. Inside or out, he couldn’t feel anything but pain and longing for his friend back. He remembers pushing that hooded figure out of the window and killing him from doing so. Broke his back and the back of the skull on collision. Suicide, the cops concluded. But Tim knew. When he figured out that Brian died of similar injuries…well, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

He stood there, looking down at the gravestone. He kept looking at it, his eyes unblinking beyond necessity. Tim then started to feel his shoulders heave, and tears start to fall down his face. It didn’t even feel like he was crying, it felt like he was outside of this looking down on it. He could see the tears fall into the dull grass below, but not where they found their final resting place. Minutes pass. Next thing that he knew, he was on his knees holding onto himself crying out loud. Screaming out loud, grieving so much he could feel the pull and pain in his chest. It was pulling, twisting in his chest as if someone plunged a knife into his chest.

Hours pass…

Tim looked up and only realized how long he has been at his friend’s grave. He was laying down on the grave, curled up in the fetal position.

 _‘This is all of his fault. His sickness caused this. His sickness…’_  he thought, standing up, dusting himself off in the process.

_‘The Operator. That fucker is who caused this. He has been around me for far too long, he is the one who caused me to do this to Brian! He is the reason why Alex went crazy, why he is also dead! He is the one who started all of this!’_

Tim looked down at Brian’s grave and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and giving a silent prayer for him. Wherever he might be.

_‘Brian, I promise I will help you. I will get revenge for you. I am so…so sorry for what I did. He drove you…us…crazy. Made both of us sick…I will fix this for the both of us.’_

Tim then sets off, getting back into his car and driving into town. He got himself something to eat, what he felt like was going to be his last meal. It was a savory steak with potatoes and all the fixings. Even cracked a few beers and chugged those back. The last thing he took was a shot of whiskey. Paying for everything, he went over to the edge of some woods on the far side of town. Frost etched at the edge of his windshield like pale, clawed bone fingers reaching for his death.

It was going to be now or never. He didn’t even know what to do anymore, that this was the only way he knew he could give Brian what he deserved. Reaching over into the glove compartment, he pulled out a revolver that has seen better days. Six shots. That is all he had was six shots. Five really. Five for the Operator, and one for himself if he couldn’t kill him. Tim looked down at the revolver, the dull metal reflecting his face back to him. His face, with the long sideburns and droopy eyes that have seen too much. A pang of something went through his frame. Guilt? Shame? Fear? Yes, all of those went through him and more.

With a grip on the gun that whitened his knuckles to the bone, Tim forced himself out of the car and started walking. With a hard slam behind him, the car door echoed in the winter nights air. And off he marched.

Time passed, how much was unknown. No animals made any noise, all he could hear was the crunch of the leaves under his boots. He kept walking until he came up to a clearing. It was surreal in nature. The opening was circular as if a cylinder was carved out of this place right into the open sky. No moonlight showed down, not even the twinkle of the star’s eyes.  The air was still and silent. Every so often the hoot of an owl was heard out in the distance. Fog rolled over the center of this macabre stage; the bitter air sucking out his breath with every exhale.

Across the way, the Operator stood. A tall, white figure in a tux against the dark black silhouette of the forest that rose above him. No eyes, no mouth, no discernible facial features or anything. An impossibly still figure, standing…watching…waiting.

One step…

Two steps…

More started to come as Tim forced his legs to move.

As he moved closer the air around Tim dropped. His eyes never left the Operator, but the more he watched the more his head hurt. Goosebumps crawled all the way up his spine to the tip of his fingers, but he refused to shiver or show fear; pins and needles came with them. Clouds and dots started to line his vision as everything circled around the Operator forcing him to the center of his vision. The rest faded slowly, bending away from him. All a sudden everything heated up. His knees became weak, arms heavy, there is nausea in his stomach trying to claw its way up and out of his system. Then everything becomes cold again, chills. Then hot again, his heart pounding in his ears as he panicked.

_‘Not now, please for the love of God, not now!’_

And everything went black…

It wasn’t Tim who stood up after the quick fall to his knees from blacking out. The eyes showed it, they were different. Colder, more calculating, meaner…angrier. He was different, and he wasn’t the one who killed Brian. But he sure as hell felt what Tim did, and was going to get payback for him one way or another.

Masky pulled out the gun from his back pocket where Tim put it last. A spark came from the gun, and a bullet flew off towards The Operator. He seemed to either have missed, or his eyes were deceiving him in that he was a few feet to the right. Masky’s eyes narrowed at that, blinking to make sure that they were not off. Yes, he was a few feet to the right. And he didn’t even move a muscle to avoid the gunshot.

 _‘He is going to stay dead forever, you know.’_  A voice spoke in his head. It was deep, calm, sophisticated, and had an all-knowing tone. Masky hated that tone.

Red, everything started to look red. Cold air be damned, all he could feel was the heat rising inside of him. Body was tense like a coil that was so tight it could spring out and cut a person in half with how much tension there was. One step, then two, then more as he started to rush towards the tall slender figure in the distance. A large rock was on the way here, and he was going to use it to bash the fucker’s skull in. If he had a skull. 

The figure wasn’t moving away nor closer to him, but Masky was gaining upon him. With a loud scream and plenty of energy, he thrusted the rock at his head with all his might. Only to see it hit a tree about 100 feet behind him and shatter into dust. 

_‘You know you can’t win this fight, so why do you continue?’_  the voice asked. 

Masky whirled around on his heels to come face to face with this figure. Up close, it was even more terrifying. Up close, that face was something of nightmares. It might be from the fact he is trying to be intimidating, but when face to face it’s different. The eye-sockets are sunken in over what appears to be an alien like head. The skull elongated, and that white was a thin layer to see what is under it. On its forehead was the symbol, the O with an X through it almost like a scar. Many, many sharp pointed teeth, like that of a shark as far as Masky could comprehend, was underneath that film in the mouth. Small slits like Voldemort’s nose also lay under that film, but still, no eyes could be seen. On top of that, he was at least twice his height. 

He tried to swing again, trying to hit him. Something grabbed onto his arm, and when he looked he sees a black, slick tendril wrapped around it. It pulled on him, and then he felt himself being lifted by the said tendril. 

_‘You are an insolent little flea.’_

Then he was flung into the woods, his back hitting a tree. He coughed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before and fell to the ground clutching his chest gasping. Oh, everything hurt at that point. But he didn’t have any time to waste. Looking up, he sees the man moving towards him with long strides and more of those tendrils coming out of his back. Masky climbed to his feet and pulled out the gun again, taking deep breaths to try and aim. 

Then his mind was hit with what felt like a cold static shock. White noise flooded his head and made his ears ring so much that it caused his nose to bleed. Dropping the gun, he gripped onto his head and stumbled back screaming at the top of his lungs.

_‘You can’t win. You won’t win. Do you honestly think that because you have this righteous idea of revenge it will make everything better?’_

The white noise stopped as Masky felt himself being lifted off the ground again. Eyes bloodshot and opening, he was looking face to face with the white-headed figure again. He screamed out, trying to reach and grab onto him with no success.

He was flung into a tree again, this time his chest hit it first and he felt something crack. Then fire shoots through him and everything began to go numb when he fell. Coughing, he could see the red come out of his mouth onto the ground in front of him. Yeah, something broke. 

Here he was. Masky knew he could keep going, keep trying to fight this…thing. Whatever it is. But after two tosses into trees, and the gun all the way back to where he was after the first toss, a broken rib, and the fact he could mess with his head. It was…futile. He knew he was a fighter, but he wasn’t stupid. This is not going to be a fight he can win. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he looked at the blood coughed up in front of him. Red, it was still red. There was no blood when Brian died, so he hoped it was quick and painless.

Masky could feel the emotions between himself and Tim. The flood of good memories they had…until this guy came into the picture. This…fucking thing. He looked up and saw it standing there with no tendrils anymore. Staring at him with no eyes and no expression. He couldn’t read anything, and it gave him the willies. For once in his life, Masky was scared and outmatched in a one on one fight.

He stood up, legs shaking as he held onto his sides. Masky could feel tears start coming to his eyes. A rainbow of emotions flooded him; some his, others not. His muscles tensed up again, tight as he tried to keep some semblance of a face. But it began to fail. Anguish flooded over him, like what Tim felt while at Brian’s grave. His knees became week as he fell to them, chest heaving with a gasp in the breaths, sucking in the cold night air. Copper and iron were all he could taste in his mouth as he kept his eyes on the thing in front of him.

 _‘I’m going to die here…’_  he thinks, but he is at peace with it. Both were with that fact, he could feel it. He kept his head down, hoping it would be over quick. He submitted something that no one else could have done to him.

 _‘I can bring him back.’_  The voice spoke in his head again.

His head snapped up. There was a rage in his system for this thing, but there was no way he could do anything. So, he kept on the ground, watching it.

_‘You think I can’t? I know why you came here. You obviously came here to avenge your fallen friend, the one you killed. I can bring him back to life, but not without a cost.’_

Masky looked at the figure long and hard. Shaking in his shoes, stood up back to his feet, trying to come somewhat on equal grounds with this entity. He was listening.

 _‘I can bring Brian back, but here is the cost. You and his counterpart, the one everyone named Hoody, must work for me. From the point of his returning until the end of eternity. Death will not undo this contract, nor can anyone or anything take this contract over. You and Hoody will be as you both are now, separate personalities in the same body as Tim and Brian. They will only have vague memories of what you guys do, but you and he will be the dominate personalities now instead of Tim and Brian. Only switch when I say, only when I do, and follow my orders without question. Even if it may mean your death. That applies to both of you._ ’

Masky watched the figure, listened to its words in his mind as they came. It was a loaded deal, and he knew it was. There was no way out of it, there was no way he could even say no to it and stay alive. It was one-sided. But it meant that he and Hoody could have freedoms they never had. No, they couldn’t go back home with Tim and Brian and have everything go back to normal. Those days are gone, despite how much Masky longed for those days. 

“Fine. But I am adding this into the contract. Hoody and I will remember everything Tim and Brian do, so we also have our own fond memories of when they are together. We are still human beings, we still have free will.”

The figure, the Operator, stood at the distance watching. 

After a pregnant pause from the two of them, the Operator appeared in front of Masky. Masky flinched in response but didn’t take a step back from the thing. In an instant, he could feel a burning sensation on the back of his hand. It hurt as much as his rib being broken, but this brought him to his knees. It wasn’t his hand that was burning, he could feel it in his core. His very soul, that this contract was signed upon. Then he was being picked up by this thing, and a hand forced his mouth open. This black, tar-like substance was poured into his mouth. It too burned like hell as it went down, coating everything on the inside with ash, soot, and slime. In an instant, he was dropped onto the ground coughing and gagging. The Operator, which Masky now knew to call the Slenderman, vanished in such a way that his mind could comprehend. Maybe that was a blessing on his part.

Yet in his place, on the ground, was Brian. Hoody and Brian, as far as Masky could tell. His chest rose and fell, and he was snoring as if he was sleeping. He could feel Tim trying to claw his way forward, but a barrier seemed to stop him from fully taking over. The fact that himself, Masky, was in charge now. Yet he felt for Tim, he knew how he was feeling. So, he decided to let him through, but only so much to mix the two together for a short period of time. 

They rushed forward, grabbing onto Brian/Hoody as tight as they could. They were both crying into his shoulder, uncontrollable sobbing and animal noises coming from them. Everything was coming in at once. Happiness, relief, joy, but also grief, sadness, and the feeling of dread for what they must do now.

The other two woke up from this of course but seeing them there made them both angry and happy. It was Tim who killed him, he knew he died thanks to him, but he had a feeling that it was also thanks to him he was now alive. A gut feeling. 

Masky/Tim sat back and looked at their close friend, looking like a high school prom girl crying because she lost the queen title. Though shaking words and a lot of explanation, they explained to the best of their abilities what happened and what is coming because of that. It was a lot to take in, and all them were there for hours…comprehending everything. Enjoying one another’s company at the very least.

The fringes of dawn rose over the bleak, grey sky above their heads. The rays gave a little light for them to see, some oranges and yellows. Time continued, and purples and blues were starting to come into the sky as they conversed and caught up on all past events. Long bouts of silence were common between them, but it was okay. 

Masky looked over to his right, deeper into the forest. He felt a calling, something telling him to come home. He sees an archway made from old, gnarled tree branches that have seen better days. Spikes came out of them in such a way that felt like they were reaching to embrace whoever would walk through it. It was unnerving, but comfortable at the same time. So, he put Hoody’s arm around his shoulders and helped him walk to the doorway. They have this new, fucked up life ahead of them, but at least they can do it together.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not ship characters in creepypasta/marble hornets universes together just by the way! I might do them with OCs, but never with each other, unless it is either a) canon or b) strongly platnoic (which can be just as good and healthy!).


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